


Painted Whores

by coplins



Series: Packrunners [45]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Sam Winchester, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pack Bonding, sibling dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 20:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20784635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coplins/pseuds/coplins
Summary: In the weeks following the pack date, the Williams boys make an effort of being free all at the same time to hang out with their soon-to-be pack members and possible mates. (Or in Sam's case, already mate.) Today they're out strolling in the rich parts of the city when Dean spots a store that piques his interest.





	Painted Whores

**Author's Note:**

> There's a brief cameo by a character from my favourite fantasy porn comic, '[Alfie](https://buttsmithy.com/archives/comic/p1)' (NSFW link). I was recommended it for the porn, but kept reading for the plot. ^^  
In her canon, Ozge has horns and a long tail. I choose to believe it's something she can shift to get here too. How does she fail to draw attention to herself in this world? She doesn't. That's why she's shy and reserved. As far as I'm concerned she comes from an isolated place, whether it be an island or deep in a rainforest I don't know. But there are more people like her there. She was just an odd one out wanting to travel and see the world.
> 
> I started writing this and Fanboys at the same time, initially planning on publishing this first since this happens before Fanboys. But Fanboys was done first.

* * *

“What's that?" Dean says and points while they're strolling through a part of the city Sam and Dean have never been in.

“It's a makeup store, dear," Dick answers Dean's curious question.

"Makeup? Like, face paint?" 

“Yes."

“Awesome."

“Who paints their faces?" Sam asks with a bemused expression, lacking the starry-eyed enthusiasm Dean seems to have about face paint.

"Actors, amongst others. It's quite popular amongst Progs and rich people as well.”

“Rich people?” Both Sam and Dean peer suspiciously at the Williams brothers accompanying them.

“We don't use it," Gabe says and adds, “Why _don't_ we use it?” at the same time as Dick answers him with a smirk saying, “Marlon does.”

"Bullshit,” Mike refutes.

"Dear, you don't think those thick black lashes are natural, do you? I'll have you know that when we spent that night together back in the day he didn't take the time to wash it off.”

“I don't believe it," Mike persists. “Why wouldn’t he have told us?”

“Oh, like you tell us what comb you use?” Luci argues.

“No, but―”

“Is it expensive?” Dean asks putting a hand over Mike’s mouth to quiet him.

“Not particularly, no,” Dick answers. “There are certain kinds that are―the type Marlon uses―because it’s treated with chemicals to remove as much scent as possible. Progs don’t care much about the scent. To them looks are important, hence the popularity of makeup. But to us, the scent of makeup interferes with our own smell which is why it hasn’t gained popularity amongst the common people and is advised against at work.”

“It stinks?”

“Not at all. It simply hides or distorts your own scent.”

“But there are types that don’t?” Dean asks, adorably excited. Sometimes it surprises Dick what will dazzle the Winchesters. 

“Yes, the expensive types,” Dick affirms with an amused smirk.

“Whelp. Y’all are rich so we’re going in,” Dean declares, grabs Raff around the wrist and starts pulling him along. Sam makes a token protest but Gabe all but gallops ahead and Luci has an eager bounce to his step.

The store has a funny smell. Dick tells them it’s from the cheaper brands of makeup. It’s not an unpleasant smell per se, but it’s not one he’d want clinging to himself during an introduction which is why he’d never bothered using it. Aside from that, Dean’s reaction to the store is delightful. Row upon row of powders and paints for lips, eyes, cheeks and who knows what else, Dean walking along touching and sniffing like a kit in a candy store, eyes wide and excited.

He doesn’t pay much attention when Raff chats with the cashier, but then Raff turns to them. “Guys? Are you in the mood of getting makeup done by professionals?”

That’s how they find themselves placed around a table in a big backroom, attended by four people. Sam’s the least excited about it. He does seem to enjoy the others’ enthusiasm a lot more. Dick’s heart has a soft spot for the young, tall Omega. Sam is incredibly conservative in his way of thinking and worries a lot about appearance and acting in accordance with what’s conventional. All that evaporates under the influence of alcohol, showing someone who without a doubt is Primal at his core and might rival Dean for hedonistic tendencies. For all his worrying, he doesn’t actually give off an air of anxiety and nerves. Sam hides it really well, emulating his brother’s confidence. But the faint taste of constant anxiety is always there when you siphon him. What Dick loves most about him is his thirst for knowledge and how quickly he learns. The semi-mentoring role he’s taken on for the young man is quite lovely. Last week he introduced Sam to Sebastian and to his surprise the two hit it off right away. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised. Seb loves to lecture and to impress, and Sam was full of admiration at meeting a real doctor. They both got a common wish to sort the world into definites. They want absolute answers to how things work. Tomorrow Dick has another surprise planned for the Winchesters. A phone call and a request of ‘Please, come visit. Something big’s happened,’ and the setup for a great surprise was done. Dick’s used to keeping secrets but it’s rare that he gets to keep them about something he wants to giggle just thinking about. 

"Can I get something to match my flare? Is that okay? Like, you're not gonna freak out if I flare, right? Oh, oh, can you make it really in-your-face? Like, head-turningly colourful?" Dean bubbles to Rosie, one of the makeup artists.

"I want that too," Luci says. "Something like a costume ball mask. You know those with feathers?"

"Can that be done? Without any of that stinky stuff? I still want to smell like me. Oh, oh, can you accentuate my scars? Like, make them really stand out so others can see how badass I am?"

Rosie and the other three Os working there are trying really hard to be professionals and failing spectacularly in favour of laughing at (or rather, _with_) Dean. It started with twitching lips and shoulders discreetly jumping from repressed laughter but now Rosie is laughing hard enough to blink tears out of her eyes. It's contagious and Dick laughs along.

"Holy shhh―" Rosie chuckles when she finally manages to calm down. "Yes to all of that," she answers Dean with a warm smile. "At least to a degree. We have makeup with very discreet scents but it's virtually impossible to remove all scent and some colours can't be obtained with odour reduction. But once we have agreed on a colour scheme I'll let you sniff every container to rule out anything that you don't like," she explains. She looks at her youngest colleague. "These gentlemen are Primals. It's common that they request enhancement of their scars. Even burns and other things people usually want us to cover up." She looks back at Dean and the others. "Anya just graduated. She's a very skilled makeup artist but has very little experience with Primals. If you’re uncomfortable being serviced by someone who does not fully understand your customs we can call for Ozge instead, but Anya is better at, to use your words, in-your-face makeup. It’s up to you.”

“Nah, man,” Dean beams at Anya. “If I need plumbing done I’ll hire a plumber, not a diplomat, you feel me? You go ahead and doll me up like one of those, what’s’em called? Paradise birds. I trust you know what you're doing. But you're not gonna get scared when I flare, right? Or if my teeth go pointy when I talk to my boys? Like, I can hold it back. Don't wanna freak you out or anything."

Anya smiles shyly. "No, it's alright. I knew this job entailed catering to Primals before I applied for it."

"Then, have at it," Dean encourages.

"I'd prefer something natural," Dick says to the girls. "As if I'm not wearing anything."

"I want that too," Sam hastens to say.

"Then what's the point?" Dean asks, perplexed.

Rosie chuckles. "What we do is enhance what you've got. Eyelashes tend to pale at the tips so we make them look longer with mascara. Maybe cover up the dark circles under the eyes, add a little white inside the rim of the eyes to make them look bigger. Things like that. You won't see we've done anything but you'll look more beautiful and healthy. When Progs ask for it we'll use creams and powders to cover the whole face and throat to cover up blemishes and shape the appearance of the face by using different shades."

"Like this," Laila, one of the other girls says and shows Dean two photos. "It's called contouring."

"Whoa. That's pretty awesome," Dean says and studies the photos before holding them up so everyone can see the before and after picture.

“We can’t really do that to Primals or anyone else with active glands. We’d have to use what we call a stopper foundation to clog up the glands so you can’t secrete and that can lead to infections and general discomfort. If we don’t use a stopper the secretion will smudge the makeup. But we can still give you the eye-catching look you're after. We just can't cover up acne or blemishes the same way we'd do for Progs," Rosie clarifies.

“Yeah, no. That doesn’t matter. If I’m tired or have acne people are gonna smell it on me anyway,” Dean says. He turns to look at his companions. “Alright. Show of hands to make it easier on the ladies. Who wants discreet makeup?” Dick, Michael, and Sam put up their hands. “And who wants to show off?” he asks and puts up his own hand along with Luci, Raff, and Gabe. Looking back to their makeup artists he says, “There you have it. Better start with the chickens over there,” he says and winks at his brother, “cuz I presume their face paint will go faster and they’ll be able to wander off to explore if they want, while we get ours done. How’s that sound?”

They move to an adjacent room with several makeup stations. Dick is neutral to wearing makeup. He doesn’t want anything eye-catching because he doesn’t like to draw that kind of attention to himself. He has enough of that since he got his scent unlocked. But it’s about doing something together so he sits through it and even enjoys the cream Laila puts under his eyes despite its smell. It gives a cold feeling that remains after she washed it off and reduced the bags under his eyes a little bit. Mandy, the fourth girl, fawns over Sam’s bone structure and dimples and hair. Dick tries not to smirk at how Sam starts getting flirty and gets a reaction. Dick thinks he’d probably have gotten a little weak-kneed if Sam had directed that lopsided, catty, self-confident smirk at him in college if they’d been of the same age. As it is, their mentor-like relationship they’re starting to develop shifts the attraction to mostly platonic. Mandy, on the other hand, is slightly flustered and smells excited. Sam’s also starting to smell excited. He’s very suave. Oh yes, he’s going to be a heartbreaker in college, Dick thinks, amused.

Dean also smells Sam’s growing excitement. “Yo, Mandy,” he calls out. “Sammy digs chicks _and_ he’s got a phone. So if you’re feeling frisky someday…” he waggles his eyebrows at Mandy. “Best of all, no knot to worry about and you can bare it without fear of an unplanned pregnancy. It’s a win-win.”

Mandy smiles slightly embarrassed and Sam’s turning tomato red, levelling Dean with the most high-powered bitchface Dick’s ever seen. “_Dean_,” he hisses. “I’m not going to pick up a woman in front of my mates. You’re _not_ helping.”

“Don’t sweat it, Sammich,” Gabe says from where he’s spinning on the stool by his makeup-station, waiting for service. (Gabe, Dean, and Luci have all discovered how well these stools spin and make use of that with the odd ‘_weee_’ uttered now and then. Luci usually holds back impulses like that, but not now while bracketed by the other two stool-spinners.) “If you wanna squeeze a couple of melons now and then, go for it.”

“Ask her if she’s into threesomes,” Luci chips in.

Dean cackles. “_Luci_,” Raff reprimands sternly, while Sam squeezes his eyes together and mutters ‘_Gods,_’ completely mortified.

“What my insensitive brothers are trying to say, is that we don’t mind if you have flings with other Os to the side. But we might take offense if you ditch us on a date to do it,” Mike adds smoothly.

“My boy would never do that, Mikey. I raised him right,” Dean counters.

“Do you have to be so loud and obnoxious, Dean?” Sam complains.

“Dude. These ladies are Progs, not Conservatives. They can handle it. Besides, Dick’s given me Prog-sensitivity training,” Dean argues, grin full of mischief.

_That_ makes everyone laugh. Even Sam huffs in sceptical amusement. As the brothers and Dean turn their attention to other things than Sam, Sam gives Mandy an awkward, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about my brother. I swear, some days I wish I was an only kit."

Mandy smiles. "Don't worry about it. I think he's charming. There's no malice in his words.   
So you're an O?"

Sam's about to answer but apparently Dean’s been straining his ears to listen in. “You’re noseblind? Then, yeah, he’s an O. Me and Dick are also Omegas and the rest of the boys are all knotpoppers.”

Dick cracks up laughing at how Sam’s eyes widen, lips compress and steam practically coming out of his ears. Sam’s face snaps in Dean’s direction. He flares, teeths his canine and growls a low, serious threat.

Dean sniggers, holds up his hands in defeat, turns his head away while licking his lips. “Hey. I’m just sayin. If these ladies are noseblind it might be helpful for them to know who their customers are. For market research reasons. ‘S all I’m sayin’.”

“This is a private conversation, Dean. _Stay out of it_,” Sam snaps before he turns back to Mandy, fading his flare and reverting his teeth to normal. “Sorry about that. I hope I didn’t scare y―” he sniffs and cuts off with a lopsided smirk. “No, I didn’t.”

Mandy withholds a giggle, eyes sparkling. “No you didn't,” she agrees. As if her budding arousal wasn’t a dead giveaway. Both Mandy and Laila resume what they were doing but Laila and Dick who’re in the station next to Sam and Mandy don’t talk in favour of eavesdropping. Mandy bites her lip and paints Sam’s lower lip with something glossy that smells like candy. “I, uh,” she says avoiding to look Sam in the eyes, “I don’t know if it’s relevant or not, but… I could be into threesomes.”

“Get her, Sammy!” Luci hollers, once again making everyone but Sam laugh. 

Sam rolls his eyes and reeks of annoyance. But when Mandy writes a phone number on a piece of paper and stealthily gives it to him, he pockets it with a little smirk and a catty look.

Dick finds it interesting to see Sam and Dean interact in a group. Dean’s a lot more boisterous in a group and Sam’s tenser, worrying Dean will step on toes. But Dean’s playful, friendly demeanour and genuine interest in people and their passions made him (most of the time) avoid situations where people felt insulted or angered by him. Sam, on the other hand, is a lot more confident on his own. With Dean, he reverts into a ‘little brother’, both relying on Dean to fix everything and being embarrassed and annoyed when Dean does. Sam has mostly relaxed in front of the Williams boys now, but here there are strangers that propel Sam back into ‘Dean, why are you like this?’-mode.

When the girls have finished and Dean, in particular, has gone to inspect, enthusing about the result, it’s time for the more flamboyant of the bunch.

“So you guys want something to match your flares?” Rosie asks. “Then let’s see them.”

Raff flares first. Rosie gasps and Mandy says “Holy gods!”

“Wow,” Laila says. “I didn’t know eyes could be rose. Your flare is _gorgeous_.”

Raff smiles under the praise, scent spiking with happiness.

“On second thought, could you just do something that matches my normal eye-colour,” Luci says without missing a beat.

Raff snorts and gives him a disdainful look. "Don't deny these competent women the chance to work on a red-eyed Alpha," he says. Dick gets Luci. Luci is soft with Raff in a way he isn't with his other brothers. Dick's spied moments between the two where Luci had been vulnerable, dropping the arrogant façade in favour of caring for Raff's needs. With Mike and Gabe, Luci will compete for the attention but with Raff, he'll fold to give him a leg up. But Raff doesn't want or need a leg up. He's as competitive as the rest of them. 

There are gasps amongst the Os. "You've got naturally red eyes?" Mandy asks.

Dick leaves the room, leaving them to it. He walks around the store picking up things he intends to buy as gifts since some of his boys got so excited by makeup.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

Dick turns around to face the tallest, most androgynous woman he's ever seen. She's dark-skinned but the hue is almost gray-blue rather than brown. Her eyes are a reddish brown with goat-like pupils. Her nose is flat and there's barely any indent where it connects to her forehead. "Ozge, I presume?"

"Yes, Sir."

Dick gives her a pleasant smile. "I'm looking for…" he tells her what he wants then follows her. Her black, curly hair continues down her collar along the spine. Everything about her is too long, no breasts to speak of. She smells normal but Dick feels in his gut that she's a human of non-wolfcat descent. For a moment he considers asking her about it - where she's from, if and what she can shift and so on, but she seems very reserved. He decides to leave it be. If Dean discovers her it's up to him to pester her with personal questions that are no business of his. How he'd fail to detect a woman taller than both Luci and Sam eludes Dick but you never know.

When he's got his wares and has paid he can hear Dean holler “Mike! Mike, come quickly! You _gotta_ see this!” Followed by a female squeal and surprised laughter. Curiosity gets the better of Dick so he goes back to the room where his companions are, reaching the door at the same time as Mike. All the scents in the room are positives ones and everyone is laughing at Anya and Dean, Anya’s laughter is hysterical but she smells happy so it’s all good. Dean’s got Anya tipped over his bent leg supporting her back and head with one arm, holding her foot as high as the position allows it. She’s taken off her shoes and what was hidden underneath is what set Dean’s excitement off. He looks up with a wide grin when Dick and Mike enters. “Check this out! She’s a what’s’em called, Beta, right? Can’t shift. But look at this! She was born like this, how cool is that!?” he says wiggling Anya’s foot in the air to make a point. Her feet have claws instead of nails, each claw neatly painted in a pearly pink hue.

“Wow. That’s hot,” Mike states and goes in for a closer look.

“I know, right?” Dean enthuses. 

Dick sits down on the chair of his former makeup station. "It's not that uncommon. Especially in early Beta generations. Features we shift to get are sometimes permanent in them," he says when Dean finally tips Anya upright and makes sure she's alright.

"Really?" Dean asks with keen interest.

"Yeah," Laila says. "It's not common, but it happens. We usually get it fixed pretty fast. My little brother had fangs so he got them filed down. I think sharp canines are the most common thing that happens."

Dick spots Raff staring at himself in the mirror. Dick's breath hitches. He'd thought himself indifferent to makeup but the girl who's done Raphael has outdone herself. His makeup is shimmering white and rose, with tiny crystals glued to the skin. Just like Luci had requested, all of their makeup reminisce of the feathery masks you wear at costume balls, curving around the temple to leave space for the temporal glands to secrete and be rubbed against things. Dick looks at Luci, similarly done up with red and icy blue but no gleaming crystals. Dean’s makeup is green and gold, complimenting his normal eyes and skin colour rather than his flare. Gabe― 

Gabe’s makeup is very… Gabe. His makeup looks more like the face paint that is popular at Progressive kids’ parties. Or maybe, as if you’d decided to get a colourful tribal tattoo on your face.

Dick slides off the stool, makes his way to Raphael and puts his hand on his shoulder. “You look absolutely stunning, dear.”

The burst of happiness comes both from Raff and Luci. A quick side-eye confirms that Luci is smiling at them.

"Thank you," Raff says. "I'm inclined to agree."

"You guys should get your picture taken," Sam suggests.

"Yeah," Dean agrees. "Can we do that? Like, at a studio or something?" he asks and looks at Mike hopefully.

"Only if Sam and Dick agree to get their photos taken too," Mike smirks slyly.

"Awesome. Then it's settled," Dean declares.

Dick has to chuckle. Not that he'd have said no. And if that's the kind of decisions his new Main is going to make for him he can live with that.

Dean spots Gabe. "Dude. Not that it doesn't look cool and all, but what the hell is going on in your face?"

"It's Prog sex-party makeup," Gabe answers with a shiteating grin.

"Say what now?"

Anya explains. "It's not uncommon for us Progs to have a liberal view on sex. In some closed communities, or all-Prog towns like the one I grew up in, we sometimes have blacklight orgies. Swinging isn't uncommon either. Or simply a relaxed view of hooking up for fun, not seeing sex as equalling romance and vice versa."

"I get that but for the rest, I'm not following. You're gonna have to walk me through it. Swinging?"

"Exchanging partners with another couple for the night."

"Okay. Yeah, sure, I can get behind that. What's that got to do with makeup?"

Anya smirks. "Nothing. Just explaining how some Progs view sex. But sometimes we hold parties in pitch black with only blacklight so you don't know who the other people who are there are. It's not necessarily to have sex. We have rave parties where we do it the same way and dance. The darkness and makeup are the only things they've got in common. At the sex-parties, all you can see is the paint and everyone is with everyone. If Primals join in they sniff a chemical to knock out their sense of smell first."

Dean visibly recoils. “Wow. Hard pass. If I can’t identify my lover I don’t know if he’s worth me. And fucking with your sense of smell deliberately? Not in a million years.”

Sam bites his lip with a gleam of interest in his eyes, then throws a troubled look Dean’s way before schooling his face to something neutral. Dick withholds a snigger, instead, he says, “You wouldn’t happen to have a blacklight here?”

“Of course we do!”

When they cut the light and shine a blacklight on Gabe’s face Dean’s enthusiasm returns with a vengeance. “Dude, that shit is _awesome_!”

* * *

They’re walking down the street to go to have their pictures taken at a photo studio. They pass by a bar with outside seating when Raff glances disinterestedly at the people sitting there. He meets the gaze of a man people-watching while sipping his beer. The man smirks and says, “Is there a circus in town?”

Sam surprises Dick by speaking up before anyone else has a chance. “You should know, since you escaped from one,” he deadpans, flaring. It makes everyone stop.

“I’m not the one walking around looking like a painted whore,” the man smirks.

Sam gives him a disdainful look. “Even if we were whores we’d be way, _way_ out of your price range. You’d have to be both eye- and noseblind to miss that.”

"Watch how you talk to your betters, boy," the man sneers, flaring sunflower yellow.

"Hey!" Gabe exclaims angrily taking a step forward. Sam puts a hand on his chest to stop him. 

“I will if I meet someone that matches that description,” Sam says without missing a beat and steps over the small fence separating the outdoor seating from the pavement. The man’s scent sours with fear and anxiety the moment Sam crosses the barrier. He tilts his head up cockily, making his eyelids heavy to fake carelessness at the threat. Sam leans down to put one hand on the back of the man’s chair and the other on the table, caging the man in. Sam’s within distance to be hurt now so Dick’s dropping fangs and letting his claws grow discreetly, hands curled into loose fists to hide it. A quick glance shows the rest of the company is also preparing for a fight. “You must be a very foolish person to see a pack of strong, tall, prosperous-smelling men walking down the street and decide to harass them,” Sam states.

A waitress comes hurrying out of the bar. “Excuse me, Sirs―” She stops dead when she sees that Sam and the customer aren’t the only ones involved, scents in Sam’s direction then throws up her hands with a “Wow, okay, no,” and hurries back in again. Sam never paid her any mind, keeping his domineering posture.

The man throws a look at Sam’s company and taunts, “What kind of Alphas are you? Are you really going to let an Omega fight for you?”

The Williamses responds almost at the same time.

“Absolutely!”  
“Of course.”  
“Sure am.”  
“Have you seen him? He could eat us for breakfast!”

Dean sniggers. It’s a mean sound. “You go, Sammy. Put the fucker in his place.”

Sam growls threateningly and leans closer, curling his lips to put his double fangs on display, all teeth shaped to sharp points.

The man loses all his outward cockiness and averts his face while licking his lips, shirking away while making a soft ‘_ro-o-o-o_’ sound of defeat, cut by every lick of his lips. 

Sam holds his pose for a moment, growling his threat inches from the man’s face before he snorts and stands up straight. “Next time I catch you talking shit I won’t go as easy on you.”

The man keeps his shrunken pose and averted face. “It’s a free country. I can say whatever I want,” he mutters sullenly.

“Freedom of speech protects you from the government, not the consequences of saying the wrong thing to the wrong people.” Sam grabs the man’s beer and pours it on the ground before putting the glass back down with a clank. “Go home, Carl. You’ve had enough.” With that, he steps back over the low fence and starts walking.

Luci throws an arm around him purring. “Did I tell you I’m in love with you? I’m in love with you.”

Sam huffs in amusement and drops his ramrod posture to something more relaxed.

“Carl? You know that guy?” Dean asks, throwing a glance back at the man who’s keeping his shrunken position.

“He comes to Aze’s sometimes. He’s an asshole when he’s drunk and unpleasant when he’s sober.”

Raff and Dick walk last. Just as they pass the last table someone reaches out to grab Raff’s sleeve. Dick’s instantly ready for a fight but the woman lets go as soon she’s got Raff’s attention. She and her friend, both female Omegas, look at Raff with soft flares and bright, flirty smiles. Dick relaxes. “Sir? That man doesn’t know what he’s talking about. We think you look stunning,” the O tells Raff. She’s tilting her neck enticingly to expose her gland and the secretion leaking from.

Raff only looks surprised for a fraction before he flares and smiles, giving them a wink. As they continue to walk Dick hears the women giggle and whisper about the hot guy winking. Usually, Raff gets uncomfortable when women flirt with him, but today it puts an extra spring in his step. Dick lengthens his steps until they walk side by side and gives Raff’s shoulder a quick, affectionate temple rub, side-eyeing him coyly, getting a smile and a scent-burst of nervous excitement in reply.

In front of them, the other Williams brothers are still fawning over Sam and his show of protective ire. To Dick, it had seemed out of character, but judging by Dean’s relaxed smile and content scent this wasn’t something new.

Dick’s very grateful for these days they get to hang out all together. Some days it feels like he’s throwing himself headfirst into the unknown, joining a pack, acquiring a new family with nearly no time to get to know each other before taking the next big step. 

It’s scary, but day by day his affection for the Winchesters grows and he thinks (hopes) he did the right thing…

* * *


End file.
